4:51 PM 4/22/2010
Have succeeded at Farmers' Market: tasty tasty strawberries, tasty tasty peas, tasty tasty kettle corn. THEY'RE BACK GUYS. :D :D :D

(There was this tedious saga involving something like zoning regulations being enforced unevenly and not entirely sanely ((do not have all details and the ones I was told went ZIP in-one-ear-out-the-other)), and the kettle corn guys got told that they couldn't make their kettle corn on site. Which was more than half the appeal. And they could do it at every other market just not this one. Finally shit got cleared up. Dude said that people were so very excited, and one lady was jumping up and down. Upon getting my kettle corn, I skipped away, cane and all.)

novembersmith wrote a shiny fusion of Temeraire and Generation Kill, putting some of the marines from GK in the Temeraire universe on dragons. <3_<3 (link is in my Delicious and I'm feeling lazy)

Soon: walk with aunt
Then: TV night yay!

1:32 AM 4/23/2010
Even the least-important, simplest changes are necessary from an organizational standpoint as long as there are trainee developers who need an introduction to working on the code. Or experienced people who need to do something productive but mindless.

3:05 AM 4/23/2010
Very happy to say that aunt reported that she heard back from the vet, and it was not the malignant growth they thought it might have been in the poodle's mouth. So once the poodle recovers from the indignity of having patches of his mouth surgically removed, the poodle should enjoy many more years of being offended about this and that.

( TV, with spoily stuff )

Speaky-cat was a bit bitey! He also was not Mr. Nice-Smelling for a while. Asterix managed to total a pair of headphones by running through them. I crocheted on the black-and-white project, which attracted all sorts of feline attention. Yarn will do that. Speaky-cat is so soft and pretty, so we love him anyway. (Ditto Asterix. Oh Basement Cat. <3)

I invented a new way to cause myself accidental and oh-god-I-am-never-doing-that-again pain! Attempt to mimic the hand positions of cartoon characters. I moved my thumb. I think I feel it in my *shoulder*. OH GOD OW, DO NOT DO THAT, I DID IT, AND I'M TELLING YOU, DON'T.

11:37 AM 4/23/2010
Dreamwidth stuff: yvi has a poll on features people are using: http://yvi.dreamwidth.org/134597.html

1:34 AM 4/24/2010
Powered through a good number of suggestions today. Had difficulties until I figured out how to fix them.

It was all kinds of happy windy out! Went with a walk with my aunt and Deacon down by the pier. Drewface called to chew me out for contaminating his dreams with mythbuster!Glambert. Then the LF called, and I talked to him for a bit, and Sis. I'll try and call tomorrow and just chatter.

Had dinner with my aunt, watched Scotland, PA, which was completely bizarre.

Came home and chattered with Drewface about stuff.

11:01 AM 4/24/2010
There is a Glee drinking game: http://flavorwire.com/83330/flavorpills-official-glee-drinking-game

4:43 PM 4/24/2010
Signal-boost: Get Mathsie Home.

( Poodle, really stop with the humping. )

( Best friend, April Fool's Day. )

( Friday: shopping with Tif. )

( Saturday: assorted misery, then social with foxfirefey and others!! )

Somewhere, somewhen, there was chatter with MissKat, phonewise. Perhaps also with Drew? I am not entirely sure when, however.

( The Consultation about the Backstabbing Baggage )

I did laundry.

I typed up old poetry.

There were the type of BLT sandwiches that also have pickles and turkey meat. Also sourdough bread. Hooray for San Francisco!

I put my blankie (actually a comforter) and my nightgown in to wash before leaving for happy fun TV night.

There was agoraphobia.

There was discovering that the lost BART card was indeed in my pocket -- freshly washed! I will see later if it's still good.

( Chatter with Dawn; Deacon injured. )

( Loud people on BART. )

( Firefly! )

There was discovering how bad the elevator at 16 & Mission down to the BART station really smells. >_<

There were no BART weirdoes on the return trip.

( This was made up for by the drivethrough experience -- CRAZY PEOPLE and cursing. )

I came home to a washing machine claiming its load was not all up ons. I re-balanced it, and set it to dry. (It is not loud, unlike washing, with its spin cycle and such as.)

Hello, morning. Now my nightgown is dry.

It took a while, but I made a sensible decision regarding the reception issue in my apartment. For those not familiar, I have approximately a spherical foot (more or less, often less) of reliable reception in my apartment. This has resulted in me adopting a peculiar elbow-on-desk pose to hold my phone in the right place without moving, which is really an unwise choice for conversations that can easily take an hour.

My brain finally caught up with the rest of me, and then it was only a matter of finding something of the appropriate height, and figuring out where my headset was.





Upon examining the bottom of what has been known as "the fish" since sorcha007 first produced it as a vessel in which to hold laundry quarters, I realized that I had in fact been classifying it incorrectly since Day 1. "The fish" is not, in fact, a vase. It is a (plastic, American) yard. This does much to explain why it is so extremely fucking ugly. (I've grown attached to it, for whatever reason. I'm unsure why.)

I did manage to call my best friend on Sunday, immediately after I accomplished my feat of telephonery. He was, however, watching a movie with his parents; he called back somewhat later, and we had a cheerful chat.

Guide Dog Aunt has successfully quit her job with the puppy daycare, and is now launching out into business on her own. Her first official client is an agoraphobic Dalmatian. This made it into the conversation, and we came up with several bad phobias for particular breeds of dog to have. (Warning, these are not even bad puns; they're just very lame.)

( Read more... )

ursamajor picked the following interests of mine to ask about:

poodle! stop humping!, yeeth, Cordelia Vorkosigan, duct tape sword guys, ectogenesis, egyptian fayoumi, Liquid Satan, Malkavian

She mentioned that most* of them sounded as if they were fantasy-related. In actual practice, the links are often tenuous at best.

( Read more... )

Curious about some of my other interests? Ask away! Want to have something to write about? Say the word, and I'll pick a handful of yours for you to post about.

Yesterday's walkies got canceled on account of HOT. Everything was fine, although there was a lot of panting, until we started to walk up a nice sandy hill with a whole lot of HOT.

Well, it wasn't quite like that. Because first, you see, we had to park. Ever tried parking at a public park near San Francisco on the first hot sunny Sunday of the spring? Heh. That was entertaining, and we parked about as far away from the place where we usually walk as we usually walk. And parking was a pain, and then my aunt had to go back for sunscreen, and for the doggie treat bag, and the dogs were rather impatient about all this noise ...

...and when we actually get to where we can let them off the leash, they are Not All About It, but manfully (dogfully?) Keep On until we hit the hill. (The poodle only tries to run into the parking lot twice, which is good, for him.) The poodle scrambles up and hides in the shade of a hummock, panting. Deacon is trying to keep all four feet off the ground at the same time. Since he is a creaky old dog, this translates to lifting each foot as high as possible while standing gingerly.

"Do you think it will help if I dip his feet in water?" asked my aunt.

"I think it'll help get his feet muddy," I opine.

She does anyway. He's still not happy. We turn around. Rather than walking all the way back to the car and playing fun games with whoever parked behind vs. the dog ramp, I stayed with the dogs while my aunt brought the car. I was only asked once if I was going to move my car (the car I was standing next to of course naturally being "mine"); happily, by that time, I saw my aunt coming around the bend and was able to indicate her car as the one I belonged with, and the dogs were loaded with very little fuss.


On Saturday, there was something that was not quite an Incident, but was definitely Interesting. A smaller dog who had been going the other way decided that the poodle was the *best thing on earth*, and was sniffing him, running around with him, trying to lick his dick, and trying to hump him. The poodle was all about the running around, wasn't so into the licking, and was Definitely Not About the attempted humping, and there was a little bit of snapping. "You tell him!" cheered the owner of the Other Dog.

The owner eventually tired of the sport (well, that happened about a minute in) and tried to get a leash on the dog. That was easier attempted than done, and there was a bit of doing. The poodle was not much help. The other dog was eventually collared and dragged off, and we continued on our merry way.

In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:

• Sunday, 2355: @gameboyguy13 You're right; @ replies do completely bust the format, though "I am replying to @gameboyguy13:" might be implied.
• Sunday, 2358: @gameboyguy13 jeeeeeeze. Go back to facebook!!!
• Sunday, 2359: New Mortal Instruments: City of Glass mini-cookie: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=83978952&blogId=473944135 (beware myspace blog)
• Monday, 0007: Iiiii have a journal on Dreamwidth.org now! And I'm helping the devs by stress-testing the importer. (I think we are on 40 tries? At least?)
• Monday, 0027: My mail headers killed the importer! Go, me!
( read the other 26 )

Follow me on Twitter.

My aunt and I were in the grocery store seeking ground turkey for supper when I saw it: a log of what appeared to be woven bacon. "Omigod!" I cried. "A Bacon Explosion! ... I didn't think those existed except for with hobbyists on the internet!"

"That's where I saw it," said the meat department guy, a fellow perhaps my age, with a lot of piercings. He looked proud of his accomplishment.

"Should we get some?" asked my aunt, eying it dubiously.

"Yes!" I said.

"What is that?" some random guy asked.

"Woven bacon, wrapped around sausage," I said at about the same time as the meat department guy did.

The meat department guy wrapped it up for us. "Please tell me how it turns out," the meat department guy said. I got the feeling he was slightly surprised that someone had bought it, and perhaps was scheming about the next crazy meat-related experiment he could see if people bought, and was probably going to cheerfully tell his boss that see, someone bought it, he was right, it would too sell.

"Why did I let you talk me into getting this?" my aunt asked as we were walking for the car. "People could DIE from this!"

"From trichinosis or a heart attack?" I asked cheekily.

"Nice having known you," my cousin put in from upstairs, as I announced myself and the Grand Purchase upon our return. (He, too, is a denizen of the internets, and knows what a Bacon Explosion is without me having to define it.)

I put it in the oven below the hamburgers while they were grilling, with the temperature probe stuck in and set to 170°F.



Eventually, the hamburgers were done. I switched to cooking it at 330°F. The top started to look done after a while, and the internal temperature hit. However, the lower half of the bacon was not yet done. I turned it over and continued to cook it. After the internal temperature was well above where it had to be, I turned the broiler back on low again.

Ten minutes later, it was done! (Well, eight and some. My aunt smelled something suspiciously like overdone bacon. Some of the edges were blackened.)



My aunt and I took slices. Yum! I forewent the barbecue sauce. My aunt nibbled off the bacon from hers, then started tossing pieces of sausage to the dogs. (She is not a fan of Italian sausage.) I was still eating my tasty sausagey slice. One of the tosses went wild, and the sausage chunk ricocheted off my laptop's power cord and slithered under the couch I was sitting on. The poodle dove after it, upsetting me, causing me to drop my table knife on his head and also my skirt. He paid that no mind, and kept rooting about under the hem of my skirt and under the couch. I abandoned my position. My aunt grabbed the abandoned knife and fished the sausage back out from under the couch.

I repaired to IRC to soothe my ruffled composure.

( The Random Word hEll bot got involved. )

I tried another, thinner, slice, this time with barbecue sauce. I am not much of a barbecue sauce fan, however, and it didn't taste quite like I thought it should. Maybe it should be glazed in the last few minutes of baking.

The rest of it is in the refrigerator. I may have a slice of it with breakfast. A very thin slice.

(Cross-posted to trashy_eats.)

Updates.

In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:

• Wednesday, 2356: @semanticist Worked properly! <3
• Thursday, 0933: I'm at Serramonte Center - http://bkite.com/04M4o
• Thursday, 1041: My cousin will appreciate this: http://www.phdcomics.com/comics.php?f=1136
• Thursday, 1115: Something that's been bothering me forever: http://community.livejournal.com/changelog/6968224.html
• Thursday, 1131: @phoenixdreaming Plan does involve converting OpenID to Real Account, so OpenID up if you haven't already and jump in.
( read the other 14 )

Follow me on Twitter.

In the last 24 hours, I posted the following to Twitter:

• Monday, 0006: Heee: http://thefuckingweather.com/
• Monday, 1011: @irohawk I moved in December? It was kind of a big production at the time, and then I went all hermity.
• Monday, 1132: @cassieclare That takes the advanced touch-typing skills, and talent, and possibly a high tolerence for OMG CLAWS IN THE FACE. I'm impressed
• Monday, 1215: I can attest that chickens do not like to wear bonnets from my own experience too. http://tinyurl.com/b3pw5w
• Monday, 1630: I'm at Fort Funston - http://bkite.com/04Hj5
( read the other 15 )

Follow me on Twitter.